Kamaitachi Chronicles
by Aviantei
Summary: So one day I was doing my job, like always, then HE shows up... Let's just say my life would never be the same... Ass. MustangxOC
1. One

**Kamaitachi Chronicles**

**Note: **I've been plotting my FMA fanfiction for a long time. But when G. C. Reed (who needs to start posting stuff so I can bug her about it… XD) started working on her story, I figured I'd better get to work on mine, too. So, I revamped my first chapter and eventually decided it'd be nice to post. Sure, I have other fics to work on, but I'm working off inspiration, G. C.'s writing patterns (I've decided to write something when she does, so the harder she works, the harder I work), and requests via poll (If you want me to update this, vote for it), so here we go. I now present to you the first chapter of the Kamaitachi Chronicles!

**Disclaimer: **Ivy Matrons, her story, and the concept for her alchemy are mine. The rest of the _Fullmetal Alchemist_ universe belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

_Humankind cannot gain anything without giving something in return. In order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange._

_If that's true, exactly how much did I give up to deserve him?_

**One**

I opened up the hood of the tractor that the farmer had pointed me to and surveyed the damage. The problem wasn't too bad—just a cracked gear—but it was in such as position as to be considered a pain by most mechanics. But I wasn't most mechanics. Hell, I wasn't even a mechanic.

I was an alchemist.

I closed the hood and pulled a worn down piece of chalk from my pocket before starting to draw on it. My intention was to have a transmutation circle as so I could perform alchemy. Alchemy was a combination of art and science in which someone understood, deconstructed, and reconstructed the structure of a material. Sure, there were other rules, but the potential possibilities were almost endless.

With my circle done, I returned the chalk to its place. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, clapped my hands together, and slammed them onto the metal surface. The result was a low _tong_ sound that was almost drowned out by the sparking noise coming from the transmutation. I opened my eyes just in time to see the accompanying flashes of light fade away.

Raising the hood again, I found everything in perfect condition. Mechanical alchemy wasn't the most exciting profession an alchemist could get, mainly since more people leaned toward the scientist end of the spectrum. Though the nature of experiments varied, alchemy could be used in almost anything to further along tests and such. For me, a sixteen-year-old girl with no home or parents, I was more than willing to use alchemy in assorted odd-jobs with the end result of money for the many means of survival.

That was life before he found me.

"Alchemy," a voice behind me whispered, causing my instincts to react and my body to stiffen. The voice that had spoken was not the one of the farmer who had employed me to fix the tractor. It was in a different tone and far too smooth to be the same person. I whirled around, mentally calculating how to defend myself if the person was unfriendly. Living on my own and traveling had given me a few aces up my sleeves.

Though I had been ready for almost anything, there was no way you could have made me suspect this. The uniform of the Amestrian military wasn't something I was completely familiar with, but I was at least able to recognize it on sight, the key give-away being the questionably dark blue material it was comprised of. The man wearing said uniform had short black hair that stopped over his just as dark eyes. He had a self-satisfied smile on his face, like he had just discovered something incredible. Sure, a teenage girl out in some rural eastern town performing practiced alchemy on a tractor was odd—but incredible? Please.

I realized two things at once. One: This man was good-looking; and two: I was staring. I pulled my eyes away from his face and found myself refocusing on the lapel on his chest. Whoever the hell this guy was, he was a ranking officer.

_So what the hell is he doing out here?_

"Do you _want_ something?" I asked, my voice touching on the edges of a growl. I had things to do, and if he was just planning on standing there all day, he had another thing coming. Over the years, my personality had begun to develop in such a way that I got easily pissed off by certain people. Seemed he was one of them.

"I'm not sure yet," the officer mused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a glove, which he proceeded to put on. "Let's find out."

I had been expecting him to give a more half-assed excuse instead of take action, which was admittedly a mistake on my part. He snapped his fingers, and I blinked as the resultant jet of flame headed straight towards me. I turned in a half circle on one foot before pushing off, using the extra force from the spin to assist in my dodge. The flame shot past my face and simply dissipated into the air a few feet away from the tractor. The man smiled and raised his hand to snap again…

And I saw it.

I dodged his second assault, the logical gears of my brain turning. He had a fucking _transmutation circle _on his glove, which allowed me to make sense of his attack. Of course, the situation was still bad. I was under fire (pun definitely not intended…) from a ranked officer who just _had _to also be a State Alchemist. Wonderful.

Then again, I could even the playing field. Reaching into my left pocket, I pulled out the palm-sized metal capsule that resided there. Without hesitation, I flicked it into the air, recapturing it in my right hand and activating the transmutation circle etched into its surface. The result was a four-foot long tri-bladed scythe. The flames were his alchemy. This was mine.

Dodging once again, I charged, the blades on my weapon glinting in the afternoon sun. My opponent attempted to dodge the swing, gloved hand coming up once again, but I was too fast for him.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I snarled, the lowest of the blades happily hovering at the back of his neck.

"Now, now, put the scythe down," he said, voice soothing and persuasive. He probably could have gotten me to do it, too, had I not been so completely pissed off.

"Not a chance. You talk first. And for the record, take off that damn glove."

He let out a low chuckle, trying my patience even further. The first consideration I had was the mental imagery of the decapitation that could so easily occur. "So you figured it out after two attacks, huh?" he commented, complying with my demand. I surprisingly noted his lack of resistance.

But, yes, of course I had figured it out. It was a slightly advanced version of your basic alchemic theory. He snapped, the gloved sparked, the transmutation circle adjusted the oxygen levels in the air, and there's the flame.

"That's impressive. Really. Here you go." He held out the glove to me, and I snatched it away, stowing it in my own pocket. "Am I allowed to move now?" he asked.

"Sure, sure, if you feel like having three blades of finely tuned steel make their way through the oh-so delicate flesh concentration that is your neck." I was allowed to flaunt my sarcastic and slightly morbid nature. After all, _I _was running this game, _not_ him. Right?

"It seems you have wit, too."

"Trust me, buddy. Just because you're complimenting me, doesn't guarantee me not accidentally spilling your blood. Please answer the fucking question." Damn, this man was flat out _infuriating_.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, nice to meet you," he introduced with a smile worthy of a politician about to win some election (I know Amestris wasn't a democracy back then, but the analogy is quite understandable anyhow). _"Nice to meet you"? _This man's life was in danger, and he was wasting time on pleasantries. I decided he wasn't mentally stable.

"Is there a particular reason you chose to attack me? By the way, this better be good," I threatened, bringing the blade closer to his skin. I saw him partially flinch and smiled in satisfaction. Check.

"You're an alchemist," he started, the obviousness making me internally sigh. "I had this feeling you were more skilled than most. It seems I was right." His eyes flicked to the scythe's handle, and I almost expected him to incline his head back towards it, too. Then again, that was only because I gave him too little credit… and I would have enjoyed watching him screw up. "With your level of skill, you could do so much more. What are you doing just handling simple repairs?"

It vaguely crossed my thoughts that he was crossing my biggest line, that he was prying into my past where no one was ever allowed, and _that_ was reason enough for me to do away with him right there. However, the brain has this bad habit where it says things before the mouth has a chance to stop it. Thus was my case at the moment.

"I have to support myself. We don't all have cushy government jobs like you, _Lt. Colonel_." I nearly spat his title. My calm was quickly abandoning me. "Besides, how could you understand? You're just a dog of the goddamn military. Alchemists are supposed to work for the people, and I intend to follow that, unlike you, even if it means I have to scramble everyday for a roof over my head at night."

I was actually surprised that I hadn't hurt him in the slightest. I had worked hard to keep myself alive all these years, and I had done it in a way that served the people. That was my Equivalent Exchange. And he was everything I hated, an asshole of a man that wasn't even a proper alchemist. He was a person that had just given himself up into the ranks, and was taking advantage of his position for himself. In my eyes, he deserved to die.

"We're not all dogs," Mustang muttered, breaking me out of my thoughts. I scoffed and tightened my grip on my weapon.

"Yeah, I bet. That especially applies to you, doesn't it? Or even better, you're the only exception."

"I'm definitely not the only one. But I'm not a dog, either. I just so happen to play the part. That's the only real way to get by in this world."

He had to be kidding. There was no way a man like him could ever possibly "play the part". He was just far too opinionated and sarcastic to ever get away with that. There was no way a man like him could seriously swallow his pride and become completely loyal to this country while still working towards some other goal in the background.

_Could he?_

"I'm actually impressed by your amount of skill," Mustang commented, making a "huh?" escape from my mouth. I really needed to stop getting deep thought around this man. It was dangerous. "Your weapon is extremely fine-tuned, too. Judging by the design, I'm assuming you designed it yourself. Just how old are you?" He finished with the same friendly smile. I frowned.

I _still_ had no idea as to what he was getting at, and it was really pissing me off. I took a few moments to regain my composure. "Don't you know you're not supposed to ask a woman her age? Besides, didn't we already have the discussion on compliments?" There, I felt more in control for the moment.

"Have you ever considered becoming a State Alchemist?" To answer, no, I hadn't. But that still didn't change the fact that I was even more lost than before.

"Let me get this straight. You see me perform alchemy, you attack me based on a _feeling_, and then you ask me if I want to become a Dog. Do you recruit all of your potential victims this way, or am I just special?" He smirked, and I almost wanted to punch him, _forget_ the scythe and all the horrific things I could do with it. Eh, that could come _after_ he stopped that look.

"Oh, trust me; you're special."

As a note, you can only be so far away from someone while holding a scythe to the back of their neck. Consequently, there were only a few inches between where he was looking down at me and I was looking up at him.

_What in the world am I doing?_

"Ivy?"

I was confused for a moment, and then it hit me: I had given him my name. I winced and mentally cursed my own stupidity.

"Do _not_ call me by my first name!" I snapped, reluctantly removing my weapon from the vicinity of his neck. Turning away to hide the light blush now on my face, I tossed my scythe towards my left hand, transmuting it back into capsule form. When I put it back into my pocket, my fingers brushed up against the glove I had taken from him.

"Alright, then, _Matrons_," he retried, putting unnecessary emphasis on my surname. "What do you think?"

What did I think? What did I _think? _Oh, he really didn't want to know what I thought. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep all the profanities from spilling out. When I was sure that opening my mouth wouldn't make me cuss uncontrollably, I took a few deep breaths, letting each one out as slowly as possible. Finally calmed, I turned to face him.

"I was thinking, _Lt. Colonel_, that I wasn't aware that they were letting sixteen-year-old girls apply for military positions." I had stopped caring about how much he knew about me. After all, the application process for becoming a State Alchemist surely was going to involve a background check, and I could very easily imagine him sticking his nose into it all in "professional interest." I liked the option of me telling him so I could keep tabs on what he knew a lot better.

"They do if one has enough talent. And I'm pretty sure your new connections will make it simpler, don't you? Besides, I seriously doubt they would pass up having someone with your skill set on their side."

I knew he was serious. Our country was a very militant one, and I had no doubt if war broke out I could be sent to the frontlines. There was no excitement in the fact that I was trying to become a Dog, but I could find some way to accept it. There had to be something I could do that would count as working for the people…

Decision made, I turned around and started walking.

"Hey, Matrons, where are you going?" Mustang asked as I walked right past him. I chuckled.

"The train station's this way, Lt. Colonel," I pointed out. "Unless… You were planning on walking to Central?"

In my mind, his face lost its casual expression, taking on a more disgruntled one. I resisted the urge to chuckle again. "Right… But what about my glove? If something—"

"Whatever happens, I've already proven that I can handle it faster than you. Besides…" I stopped walking for a moment to flash a smile over my shoulder. "You have a second glove, don't you?"

He blinked once and then smiled. I continued walking as the sounds of his footsteps and light laughter followed.

"You're a miracle, Matrons, an absolute miracle."


	2. Two

**Kamaitachi Chronicles 2**

**Notes:** So anyway, here is chapter two, because I am inspired to do FMA stuff for now… This jumps straight to East Headquarters, since I tried writing some train stuff and it didn't work… Thanks to VeekaIzhanez and Deusluxmea for your reviews! So, let's start chapter Two!

**Disclaimer:** Ivy Matrons and her story are mine. Rito is property of G. C. Reed. Hanna is property of Kaitlyn Burlingame. The rest of the Fullmetal Alchemist universe belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

**Two**

I shifted in my seat, running my hands over the red couch's leather surface. The fact of the matter was after a few days of travel via train, we had finally arrived in East City, and Mustang had oh-so graciously shoved me in the vague direction of his office before running off and saying something about having to check back in to the building since unexpected interruptions (i.e., me) had made him a day late from when he should have returned. Fortunately for me, it was very early in the morning which meant I didn't have too many questioning eyes on me as I fumbled around the halls of Eastern Command.

My savior had been a short man (shorter than me, which I found really weird. It's not like I was tiny, but just the fact that he was older than I was, and the combination seemed very off set…) who appeared to be in his really early twenties with short black hair and large glasses. When I finally stumbled out that I was looking for Lt. Colonel Mustang's office and that I had been redirected to him for some other issue (there was no way I was saying he had told me to go to his office, since that would have seemed really weird), he had said no problem at all. In fact, he even worked for the guy, and was kind enough to warn me his boss might not even be there in the first place. I refrained from mentioning that I knew he would show up eventually and simply followed my escort past more than a few places I had passed in my earlier confusion. The man then introduced himself as Master Sergeant Kain Furey.

Luckily for me, the main work area was abandoned when we got there, and Kain pointed towards one of the doors, telling me it was Mustang's office and I could wait in there if I wanted. So I had opened the door to the room, surveyed its contents, and slumped down on one of the two couches, making myself comfortable. I felt really sorry for Kain. He was such a nice guy, and yet he had to work for the biggest ass (even two days on a train hadn't changed that in my opinion of Mustang, and just might have made it worse…) in Amestris. Then again, it was probably because Kain was so nice that he had been roped into this job in the first place. You had to be a really patient person to handle someone like _him_.

A half-hour had passed since I had taken a spot on the couch, and I had to admit that I was really comfy. I was getting to the point where I could have fallen asleep if I wanted to, since the train schedule we had been forced to embark on was really irregular. I was way out of my league in that aspect seeing as with my usual life style I would simply wake up and travel as I chose. The only thing keeping me from dozing off was my pure willpower to not be caught in a vulnerable position by Mustang.

After a few minutes of trying to count all the papers that were piled up on the desk in the room (I stopped at 598 because I couldn't take it anymore), the door opened behind me and I turned to look at it. When I noted the person standing there wasn't Mustang, I recoiled back into the couch's armrest, trying to act like I wasn't there. However, the man's face broke out into a wide grin, and I actually started to note his appearance.

Of course, it was another military man, in all his blue-uniformed glory. His hair was also black, except slicked back away from his face with one piece sticking up into the hair. He wore rectangular glasses, and olive green rested behind the lenses. He was striding towards me, hand reaching into his jacket's breast pocket.

"Well, hello, there!" he practically shouted. "I'm First Lieutenant Maes Hughes and this—" a picture was shoved into my face, and I could vaguely make out a smiling dirty blond woman with green eyes and a slightly rounded stomach "—is my wife Gracia! As you can see, she's pregnant right now. Isn't she just incredible? Pretty soon, we're going to have a child. You just now with a mother like that the kid's gonna be perfect. I mean—"

"I'm sorry," I managed to squeeze into the conversation, if you could call it that, "but who the hell are you?"

He looked at me, still gushing over his picture. "I did say so, right?" he asked. "First Lieutenant Maes Hughes, at your service, but you can call me Maes. And you are?"

Something told me I should make up for my rudeness, and I stood up. "My name's Ivy Matrons; it's nice to meet you," I introduced, extending my hand. Maes took it and shook my entire arm vigorously (it took me a while until I could feel it again after that...). I then decided that I would get things over with by answering the obvious question. "Um, I'm here to see the Lt. Colonel. Would you happen to know where he is?"

"Nope, don't have a clue. I thought he might be back by now, but I guess not…" Maes said, making me sigh. "But how bout this? You tell me what you're here for, and I'll see if I can help. Hopefully by the time he gets here you'll be almost done and then you can out of this dreary place. So, what do you need?"

I nodded, even though I figured with Mustang's tendencies, I'd be stuck here until he left. The thought depressed me, so I didn't put it into words. "I'm supposed to be signing up to become a State Alchemist. Do you know if he has the papers for that here or will we have to go somewhere else…?" I looked back to the desk and realized that even if he _did_ have it we'd probably have to go someplace else anyway.

"Hm, I'm not sure. We can look around for a while and if we don't find it I can get them from the main office," Maes assured, walking over to the desk. "No offense, but I'm used to seeing people your age trying for this position. You still look pretty young; how old are you?"

I realized that Maes was another one of those really nice people, which explained why he could put up with Mustang. Therefore, part of me would have felt bad for lying to him.

"Sixteen."

_Click_, the door opened, and this time it actually _was_ Mustang. He looked at the two of us, no real surprise in his expression. I could only guess that Maes showing up in his office was normal.

"Roy! Explain to me why you have a teenage girl inside your office!"

I damned my conscience.

"Mustang has a teenage girl in his office?" another voice shouted, and its owner rushed to lean in the doorway. This time it was a woman with short blond hair roughly about the same length as mine and a piece popping out of her bangs like Maes's. Also like Maes she wore glasses, except hers were oval shaped, and the eyes behind them were light blue. She had a devious grin on her face like she had just won the troublemaker's jackpot.

I _fucked_ my conscience.

"Alright you two, knock it off," Mustang scolded, smacking the woman in the head with a manila folder he held in his hands, resulting in a protested "hey!" from her. "Matrons is here because she's enlisted my help in becoming a State Alchemist. Now behave or get out."

The woman totally ignored him and instead strolled over to me. "So we're going by last names, huh? Matrons, I'm Rito," she declared, one hand held out to shake, the other in a fist with the thumb pointing at herself.

"Uh huh…" I weakly stated, sacrificing my hand to hers. She shook it only once in a welcome change from Maes's earlier assault.

"Don't listen to her. She's… weird," Mustang interjected, walking past her to the paper covered desk. The woman I would now be referring to as Rito stuck out her tongue at his back before pointing at him.

"I'm watching you…" she warned. Then she spun around on the floor, the attached skirt of the military uniform unfurling in the air in a wave of basic blue. As Rito exited the office, I heard her shout something that sounded like "Hey! Jean!" and I fell back onto the couch, trying to sink into its cushions and disappear. Color erupted on my face—I hadn't even done anything yet and I was _already_ an office rumor. _Fuck._

"Hughes, why are you here in the first place?" Mustang asked of his fellow officer, graciously ignoring my condition. I wondered if the couch would eat me; they ate everything else.

"Why I'm here to save little Ivy from the evil clutches of Overlord Mustang, of course!" Maes answered, ruffling my hair. My fingers went to straighten out the short brown strands when he was done, my face heated up even more. _Little?_

"Hughes…" Mustang growled.

"Oh, come on, Roy, I was just seeing if you were back yet," Maes defended. "After all, you have a bunch of paperwork that's piled up over the week you were gone, and that extra day you were gone mucked up the works even more. Riza wasn't very happy with you, by the way. I can't blame her, either. 'I have a feeling,' you said. What kind of excuse is that? I mean really…"

_Riza?_

"_Hughes…_"

"Right, right, Gracia wants to know if you'd like to come over to dinner sometime soon. Besides, she and Hanna have been teaming up in the kitchen while you were gone, and you have got to try some of the stuff those two can whip up. Of course nothing less should be expected of my wife~!"

_Hanna?_

"Fine, fine, Hughes, I'll come over sometime, now if you don't _mind_…"

"Alright, we'll talk about this later! I know, we can do this at lunch. I'll see you both then!" And with that, Maes exited the room and closed the door. My stomach dropped because I realized I had just lost my buffer from being alone with Mustang.

_Besides, just how many girls is this guy seeing?_

Said guy brought his hand up to his face and sighed heavily. "I really don't know how to handle him sometimes. Just says whatever comes to his head." His hand dropped and Mustang looked at the desk before picking up a pen and putting it with the folder he was still holding. Then he walked over to the other couch across from the one where I was sitting, and I felt suddenly grateful for the small coffee table I had paid no attention to earlier. "Glad to see you made it here okay," he said, finally addressing me. "I thought that you might've gotten lost on your way."

My anger flared and I sat up, my hand making a _twack!_ against the couch. "Did _you_ get lost? Do you have any idea how long I've been _sitting_ here, you ass?"

"Sorry, sorry," he off-handedly said, opening the folder and scanning its contents. "Full name."

"What?"

Mustang looked up from the papers inside. "This is your State Alchemist application. Obviously it needs to be filled out beforehand. Full name."

"I can fill this thing out myself!" I objected. "Besides, don't you have work to do?" I indicated the piles of paper on his desk.

"Part of my job is recruiting new State Alchemists. Hence, I am doing work. That, and the deadline for the next exam is fast approaching, so this is priority. Besides, since I am recommending you to the state, it would be advantageous for me to fully know about you, correct? Full name."

I fumed for a few moments, staring into his unwavering eyes. He had a decent argument (using the "professional interest" card I had _so_ seen coming), and I didn't have the patience to argue with him right now. Besides, that would just increase the amount of time I spent in his uninterrupted company, which I definitely didn't have the tolerance for. I sighed, and he smirked.

"Ivrena Karellen Matrons," I stated. I added the spelling of my middle name as an afterthought, simply because it was unusual, and Mustang's pen made its way across the paper.

"Date of birth."

"July 14, 1894."

"Gender: female, obviously… Height."

"Five foot four."

"Weight."

"124 pounds."

"Hair, eyes: brown. Phone number: eh, I'll use mine for that."

"Huh?" I blinked. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? He better not be, because I could see bloody murder happening in the first twenty-four hours of that happening.

"Address: I'll use mine for that, too…" Yup, that's what he was saying. I decided to verbally confirm my suspicion in the hopes that I was wrong.

"Hey, are you saying I'll be staying with _you_?" I incredulously asked.

"Of course, where else would you stay?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know. Maybe a _hotel_ or something? Besides, I'm applying for a military position. Surely I can stay in the barracks, right?" The argument was quickly constructed. I waited for him to shoot some holes in it.

"Staying in the barracks would require you to have previously held a military position. My place is much nicer, and, besides, it's in pen. Let's see…" Holes successfully shot.

I continued glaring at him as his dark eyes scanned over the paper in front of him. A small growl played at the back of my throat, and I said the only thing that I felt belonged in this situation.

"Fuck you."


End file.
